


Caroline

by Future_Exalt



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 16:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17687273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Future_Exalt/pseuds/Future_Exalt
Summary: i'll be home, just any old time





	Caroline

There’s one memory I’ve kept. 

 

Throughout the six lives I’ve lived, one memory from my first still holds tight. Not even a total memory wipe can completely sanitize that part of our body that makes us who we are. Not putting it into an artificial body. Not death and rebirth. 

 

I see a woman. Brunette hair pools on her shoulders, and her cerulean eyes shine like beacons. She’s in a dazzlingly white sun dress, standing next to a tall oak tree in the bright noon sun. I think I remember an old swing on the tree, but that’s not important. She’s smiling and laughing; a sort of joy that calmed the world around her. That soaked up all the anger and sadness around her like a sponge. I remember her name. 

 

Caroline. 

 

I run towards her, whooping and hollering in joy. There used to be flesh and bone on my arms, but not everything from this memory still remains. I only see cold metal and circuitry. Regardless, I sprint towards her, holding her high in my arms when I reach her. I hug her, and she hugs me back. I glimpse behind from where my memory begins to a glowing city in the distance, shining against the mountainous horizon. I twirl her around, and I speak, though the words, too, have been lost to time. I let her down, and we talk. We talk, and talk, and talk, and though I can’t remember anything either of us said, I manage to remember that it puts me at ease. We lie back in the grass, comforted simply by the other’s presence. She calls me a name; not Ryoma, but my true name. I cannot remember it. 

 

We sit for a while longer. The memory turns hazy, now. A sterile, bright hospital room. Her eyes, still cerulean, but dull and empty. Her smile betraying the pain. 

 

A single gravestone on that same hill. 

 

I’d like to sit with her again.


End file.
